Building Books…and Plastic Models

It’s 3 a.m. and I’m desperately trying to get back to sleep. But my brain’s on-off switch is frustratingly stuck on “on.”

Care to listen in? 

I’ve got to get the Texas Ranger book finished in time for the Rangers’ Bicentennial observances this year. What else should I include? Have I forgotten anything? Does any verbiage need to be cut? What photos should I use? Is the cover design compelling? On top of all this, the deadline for completion of the next book is fast approaching. Should I try for a second postponement or resign from the contract? Oh, and finishing the income tax return can’t be put off much longer. 

As if that brain chatter isn’t enough to keep me awake, there’s that loud ticking in the background. When you’re retired, the numbers on the proverbial game clock seem to be moving with increasing speed. 

Pondering that leads me to another worry: 

Do I want to continue to spend much of my remaining time hitting a keyboard, or should I start doing more of the non-writing things I enjoy? 

All this rumination only triggers more anxiety, making it even harder to get back to sleep. But wait, there’s more to worry about: 

If I can’t get a good night’s sleep, I’ll be less productive in the morning. That’ll be another writing day mostly lost. 

Songwriters would have us believe that the road goes on forever. Unfortunately, for we mere mortals that’s not true. For many of us, it’s the worrying that goes on forever. Fortunately, I’ve found a mental mute button that’s helping me deal with the worry wart in my head. Actually, it’s more a rediscovery. It’s not something you can do for free, like taking a walk through the woods (which the Zen-minded Japanese call a forest bath) or learning meditation, but it’s helping me: Plastic modeling. 

As a Baby Boomer, my interest in modeling goes back to the Eisenhower administration. In the mid-to-late 1950s during what my grandmother called “the heat of the day,” I spent many summer afternoons as close as possible to the window AC unit. Often, I’d be sitting at a newspaper-covered card table working on a plastic ship model while Grandmother watched a daytime soap opera or an “I Love Lucy” rerun. 

The post-World War Two generation took off just as plastic scale modeling started taxiing down the runway. The Big Four American plastic model manufacturers—Lindberg, Revell, Monogram and Aurora were cranking out detailed, accurate models and enjoying robust sales. Boys Life magazine estimated in 1956 that eight out of ten American boys were modeling enthusiasts. 

In addition to the fun factor, model kits, plastic cement and paints didn’t cost that much. The 1960 Revell catalog lists products ranging in price from 49 cents to $2.49 for more elaborate kits, including motorized models. Those prices tracked the other mainstream manufacturers. Of course, an online inflation calculation site shows that $2.49 in 1960 dollars would be worth $25.72 today. 

Another factor contributing to the popularity of modeling was how easy kits were to come by. Kids could find models and supplies at toy stores, five-and-dime stores, hardware stores, general stores, drug stores and Mom-and-Pop model shops. Big box stores were in their infancy in the early ‘60s but they also carried models. 

As a modeler during this golden era, I preferred historic ship kits. I remember building a motorized replica of Robert Fulton’s 1807 steamboat, a motorized model of the ironclad CSS Merrimac (which battled the US Navy’s low-in-the-water Monitor in 1862) and a 19th century Mississippi riverboat. I also liked sailing ships, from a generic pirate vessel to the USS Constitution to a Confederate blockade runner. 

In addition, World War Two battleships, aircraft carriers and diesel submarines also moved down the slideways in my table-top shipyard. In 1961, when Robert Donovan wrote his best-selling PT109, the story of future president John F. Kennedy’s close call in the Pacific theater during the Second World War, a scale model of the torpedo boat he’d commanded soon hit the market. Not only did the completed model look cool, it came with a small battery-powered motor. When I finished the boat one summer while visiting family in Amarillo, I soon found that the small vessel sliced nicely through the waters of the Elmwood Park wading pool. 

Though never much into model airplanes, I did build a World War One German bi-wing fighter and a scattering of jet planes. Later, I assembled a few missile models, a motorized Sherman tank and a cutaway model of the U.S.S. George Washington, a Cold War nuclear ballistic missile sub. 

Obviously I did more during the summer months of my childhood than build models, but my hobby continued apace through the summer of 1963. But when school started that September, as with most red-blooded ninth- grade boys, my focus changed to girls. The summer before I started college in 1967, my interest in modeling rekindled for a short time until life soon became more complicated. My modeling went back on the shelf until the mid-1970s, when I managed to find enough spare time to build a few more ships. But once more, my interest soon got relegated to the dry-dock until a short-lived revival in the mid-1980s. In the early 2000s, I did some sporadic model building—or model starting—but once more, I went through a fallow period until my retirement in 2015. 

After moving from Austin to the Hill Country village of Wimberley in 2016, within a year I got invited to join a Saturday breakfast group meeting weekly at the Wimberly Café. One the gentlemen in the “club” was a retired Navy captain and an avid builder of meticulously detailed from-scratch ship models. His home fleet included a Republic of Texas warship from the 1830s and the 1914-vintage battleship Texas. In time, not counting me, we had two other model buffs in the group. 

Influenced by my bacon-and-eggs colleagues—despite my busy freelance writing schedule—once again I took up modeling. Even so, I continued to let my writing come first. Today, I still spend much of my day writing, but given my squirrel cage brain I’m trying to temper my screen time. I don’t do it every day, but when practicable, in the afternoon I’ll move from my work desk to the folding card table I use for modeling. 

Not only am I once again enjoying modeling, I’ve come to understand that modeling is not only an enjoyable hobby, it’s good for my head. Why?

• It’s well-documented that exercising the mind strengthens overall cognitive function—including memory. As we get older, that can help stave off dementia. 
• Our brains love any kind of work involving creativity, an activity tied to our evolutionary survival programming. After all, in prehistoric times creative thinking doubtless (at least occasionally) paid off when a stalking sabretooth tiger sought to have Mr. Neanderthal as his dinner guest. 
• More of the brain is activated by the eye-hand coordination involved in modeling, not to mention the mental benefits of following the instructions included in your kit. The brain also flourishes when problem-solving. .
• Mental activity focuses the mind, reducing its ability to stray from the usual tranquility of the present moment by worrying about the past or a not-guaranteed future. In other words, it wards off stress and anxiety—an excellent form of meditation. 
• Finally, a modeler gets a sense of satisfaction out of converting a cardboard box of numerous small parts and a few large ones into something that if well done amounts to a piece of art. 

I have to process a lot of new information as a writer, but I’m now doing the same thing in modeling. That’s because best practices have changed over the years. No longer can I build a realistic-looking model using the same techniques that worked decades ago. 

Three examples of many: 

• Painting has changed considerably. Enamel paints coming in little glass bottles that once cost only a dime are not generally used today. (And they certainly cost more than 10 cents.) Now modeling is all about spray-on primer, plastic droppers for paint and thinner with little metal plates for paint mixing, and more. 
• Gone is the plastic cement that came in squeezable toothpaste- like tubes. Today’s glue is much easier to apply and makes for a stronger bond. 
• Building a realistic looking model takes much more patience—and time—than I was willing to invest as a kid. Me trying to hurry through a model kit is no more efficient than cranking out a hastily produced piece of writing. 

While today’s plastic models and supplies are sold at big-box stores and big-box hobby and craft chains, models are gone from the places that used to sell them. In fact, the places that used to sell them are gone. 

Fortunately, some privately owned Mom-and-Pop shops are still around. The nearest M&P model shop to me is LionHeart Hobby in Kyle. One of my breakfast buddies introduced me to the place, and since then, I’ve done my share to add to their bottom line. 

Obviously, I pay for any model, paints or other supplies and tools I need, but one important thing is on the house: Modeling advice. Proprietor Rudy Cline, a longtime modeler, has helped me with paint choices, insight into what types of primer to use, repair techniques and more. 

I’ve never been in Rudy’s and Danielle Adams’ shop when I was the only customer. Indeed, Rudy believes model building is on the ascendancy again. Since a lot of models are of military vehicles, warships and aircraft, the market cooled in the 1970s amid anti-war demonstrations. The rise in electronic gaming also distracted young people who might otherwise have found modeling fun. But models of Star Wars-like spacecraft, monsters, fantasy figures and automobiles have attracted a younger clientele. 

Interest in the hobby certainly was evident at the convention of the International Plastic Modeler’s Society, held in the summer of 2023 in San Marcos. The array of completed models on display at the gathering was both dazzling and inspiring. From a couple of the many vendors, I ended up buying two model kits and am well into building one of them, a World War One Curtis “Flying Jenny” biplane. Next up will be a Ukrainian-made model of a Confederate vessel that saw action in the Civil War. 

Maybe I should write a book on the joys of plastic modeling but that would take time from what I already have on the table—other writing projects AND more models waiting to be built.

See more of Mike's writing on his website: mikecoxauthor.com